


Savor

by Maleficar



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 02:31:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2796410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maleficar/pseuds/Maleficar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evelyn is unused to lovers taking their time with her, so Blackwall does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Savor

Blackwall had her trapped between his warm body and the cool balustrade, his hands holding her hips as he drove into her. As always, Evie had coaxed him into her as quickly as possible, an insane part of her brain unable to comprehend that templars weren’t going to come barreling in at any minute. She couldn’t do slow and sweet, and he, thankfully, didn’t seem to have a problem with that. Not when he was inside her, rocking into her, and she was already on the edge.

Maker, he was big. He stretched her to her limits, until pain and pleasure blurred into the same thing, and she relished the burn of his size and the burn of the pleasure he gave her because of it. Maybe she should listen to Dorian and let Blackwall take his time, whatever that might mean. Dorian had seemed to think Blackwall was big enough that she’d need some preparing. Whatever that might mean, too.

“Am I hurting you, my lady?” Blackwall asked as she writhed in his arms.

Shaking her head, she whimpered softly. Pressed her face against his neck. They weren’t in the Circle, but she wasn’t used to anything but fast and hard. Sex scratched an itch. Sometimes she came, and if she did, it was as hard and fast as the sex.

She was already close, already teetering on the precipice of ecstasy. Because it was him, and he adored her, because his touch on her hips was gentle. 

He breathed her name against her ear, and for some reason that acknowledgement sent her over the edge. Without a sound, her back arched as she came, her body grasping at his. The pleasure was fleeting, there and then gone, the itch scratched but not satisfied. It never was, but sex wasn’t the amazing conflagration of novels. Not in a mage’s world.

Panting, she turned her face to smile at him, a bit uncertainly. “You didn’t finish?” she asked, still feeling his hardness deep inside her. He was unmoving and there was surprise on his face – surprise and a look of calculation. 

“You did, so quickly,” he said. There wasn’t any judgment in his tone, just consideration. “Barely a minute inside you, and you…”

She flushed scarlet clear down to her breasts. He was displeased. Of course he was. Mages did things differently than other people, and she knew that, she just hadn’t expected it to be an issue. “With the templars, when you were with a lover… it was quick,” she said, looking away from him. “And I’ve always been…” She cleared her throat. “Easy.”

“Easy, is it?” There was warmth in his voice, and when she jerked her head up to look at him, his eyes were sparkling with excitement and lust and desire. “So you’ve never just taken your time?” His hands swept from her hips to her breasts and back, a caress that soothed and heated. “Never savored a lover’s body?” 

Even with him, there hadn’t been any of this savoring business. She didn’t know what savoring looked like. What it felt like. Swallowing, wide-eyed, she shook her head. “No, I – oh!”

Blackwall pulled away from her, out of her, and swung her into his arms with a positively wolfish look on his face. “And you had to be quiet?” he asked, striding toward her bed.

“Because of the templars,” she said weakly, horribly embarrassed. Of course she would bullocks this up. Sure, they’d regret this, but not because of whatever he was constantly castigating himself for; they’d regret this because she was no good at sex. Not the kind most people had.

Dropping onto the bed, Blackwall settled her in his lap, his blue eyes sparkling wickedly. She could feel the press of his cock against her back, slick with her arousal. The knots in her stomach stopped twisting up, and she went still. Was he, perhaps, not upset? 

“My lady,” he said in a low, rich rumble as he smoothed his hand over her hip and thigh. A little gasp escaped her. “You being easy is a delight.”

She choked a little, sputtering out, “H-how so?”

“Because it means even a lummox like me can make you come until your legs give out,” he growled, sliding his hand between her thighs. 

Heat shot through her, an immediate answer to his touch, and she bit her lip, hard, to keep from making a sound. Which was ludicrous, she knew, but habits were hard to break.

“Wet,” he breathed. He’d said that earlier, too, when he’d pushed into her without preamble – mostly because she hadn’t given him any other choice. He said it like it was a miracle. 

His lips brushed over hers and he slipped one finger inside her. “Hopefully,” he murmured, rubbing that finger against her sensitive flesh, “by the time I’m finished with you, you’ll have forgotten yourself.” His thumb brushed over her clit, light and tormenting, and she had no idea what to do with herself. Men didn’t play with her body. Men took her, hard and fast, or she took them, and they scratched an itch. Nothing more.

A quiet gasp escaped her, and she retaliated by biting hard on her lower lip.

“I quite liked that,” he said against her mouth, catching her lower lip in his teeth and tugging it free. “That little noise.” His finger pressed deeper into her and then withdrew with agonizing slowness. This was the very antithesis of the sex she’d had in the Circle, and she didn’t know how to cope with it. She already felt like she was drowning in sensation. She was the only one who teased her body like this, and then only in the private, secret hours between dusk and dawn. No man had ever touched her like this. Teased her like this. “Let’s see if we can’t hear it again.”

Another finger slipped into her, filling her, stretching her. Her hips moved of their own volition, rocking against his hand, the movement liquid and languid. Heat simmered under her skin, bubbled in her belly, filled her so thoroughly there was no room for anything else. It was just the burn of pleasure and him. Nothing else existed in the world.

He fucked her with his fingers – slowly. It was the sweetest agony. One of her legs slipped off the edge of the bed, opening her body for him, and he sucked in a sharp breath, his gaze riveted to the place where his fingers disappeared into her. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said, tone reverent. Everything about him was reverent, but it wasn’t the same kind of reverence most people used. He adored her; the rest of the world worshipped her. She much preferred his reverence. “So beautiful.” He lapped at her lip, soothing the ache she’d left there from biting it, and she sucked in a breath. “I’m going to make you scream for me.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. People didn’t scream during sex, surely, but then he curled his fingers inside her and she thought, briefly, that maybe people did scream. A moan started at the back of the throat, and she choked it down mercilessly, unable to let it out, to let the tension go.

“Evelyn,” he murmured, his lips against her neck now, so gentle as he dragged his fingers along the walls of her cunt. Gooseflesh prickled her skin, electric currents of pleasure fizzing through her veins. “Tell me what you feel when I touch you.”

Maker, that was too embarrassing. Speaking at all was too embarrassing. How did people _do_ that? Instead, she arched into his touch, making his fingers sink deeper into her. “Stop,” she pleaded, her eyes drifting shut as she reached, blindly, for him. One hand grasped at his shoulder. The other fell on his knee. “I can’t – just take me, please.”

“There’s your voice.” His voice was soft against her ear. He caught her earlobe in his teeth, tugging gently. “But we’re savoring, remember?”

A frustrated sound escaped her, and she went rigid in his arms, eyes snapping open. Alarm heightened every sensation; she swore she could feel each individual inch of his fingers inside her, and she was acutely aware of every place he touched her. Of the coarse hair on his thighs under her ass, of the solid wall of his chest on one side of her, of his arm curled around her back, of the fingers drawing idle circles on her arm. His cock pressing against her hip, insistent and hot and hard.

“No one’s here to hear you, my lady.” He pressed a kiss to her jaw, to the corner of her eye. His beard brushed along her skin, tickling her. “Just me.” 

“Blackwall…” 

“I’ll take that.” His fingers moved slightly faster, and she gasped. “That, too.” Another incremental increase in speed, his fingers still curling deliciously against her inner walls. 

She understood his game then. What he was doing. Every time she made a sound, he’d give her more, the rat bastard. And what he was giving her, those clever strokes of his fingers inside her, was barely enough. She was easy, but not that easy. She needed more. She needed it hard and fast, and she wanted it with him inside her. Maybe in the bed this time. For the first time. 

A whimper fell past her lips. 

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, and he brushed a light kiss over her mouth. She tried to follow that kiss to get another, deeper one, but he pulled back. “I can’t hear those lovely noises if I’m kissing you.”

“Please!” The word burst out of her, her fingers digging hard into his shoulders. “Blackwall, please, I can’t—” Maker, it was too much. The slow, steady torture was too much, and he was touching her in all the right ways, like he knew her better than she knew herself. A brush of his thumb over her clit had her on the edge and a twisting pull of his fingers had her tumbling over it. She could barely breathe as she came, her body wound tight, every muscle flexed and taut. And yet, for all that, as she clenched around him, the only sound he got from her was a quiet gasp.

“Better,” he said, his fingers still moving inside her. “Shall we see just how easy you are, my lady?”

She met his gaze with wild eyes, gasping for breath. “What do – oh. _Oh_.” She was so sensitized from that second orgasm that she was already primed for another. “But—”

He shushed her with a real kiss, all heavy and forceful, his lips hard against hers. He slanted his mouth against hers to take her deeply, his tongue laying claim to her mouth. To her. He tasted her in short, wicked strokes, timing the thrusts of his fingers and the dance of his thumb over her clit to match his kisses. 

With his mouth on hers, she finally let out a small cry of pleasure. It was swallowed by their kiss, and there was something reassuring about that. Something freeing. A mewl followed the cry, and a second cry followed that. She had to pull away, gasping as he washed her with fire, as his fingers stoked the burn brighter and higher. When he brought her over the edge again, she whimpered his name as her back arched and her toes curled. 

Her legs were trembling. So was the rest of her. Her hand dropped from his shoulder, over her head, and she stared dazedly at him as he watched her with wicked intent. “You said my name,” he murmured.

Heat crept across her face.

“No, love, don’t be embarrassed.” He shifted, and she felt the hard ridge of his cock against her hip.

“I… it’s not…” She coughed, turning away, trying to ignore the light strokes of his fingers between her legs. He wasn’t trying to make her come again, she could tell that much, but he wasn’t letting up. His touch was gentle but relentless, giving her no quarter. No room to run. “I’m not used to it.”

“I know.” He drew her into his arms, rolling her beneath him on the bed. He caught her wrists, lifting them above her head, and settled between her legs.

This she knew what to do with. The teasing was baffling, but this, the weight of a man over her, against her, pinning her to one surface or another, was familiar. Slinging her legs over his hips, she worked herself against his cock, trapping it between their bodies and letting it slide between the slick folds of her cunt. “Now?” she asked, her voice a breathless whisper.

“Not yet,” he said, moving with her, the head of his cock brushing over her clit and sending merciless jolts of pleasure through her body.

She let out a quiet sound of distress. “But—” 

“We’re savoring, my lady.” He cupped the back of her head with one hand, drawing her close for a lingering kiss that left her breathless and shaking. “Every time we’ve been together, it’s been quick. Let me take care of you.” He kissed her again, and there was more than lust and desperation in that kiss, though those two things were certainly present. The kiss left her shaken and stunned, completely thrown off balance – thank the Maker she was already laying down. But it also made her burn. Her cunt clenched around nothing, rippling with the need to have him inside her.

“Savor when you’re inside me?” she asked in a breathless whisper.

He brushed his lips back and forth over hers, a light caress that sent lightning zinging through her. Her fingers and toes tingled. Her skin felt too tight for everything she was, everything he made her feel. Arching beneath him, she canted her hips until he nudged her entrance, desperately wanting him inside her. Craving it like a drug.

With a groan, he released her wrists and turned his lips to her neck. To her breasts. “I have to taste you,” he murmured, his voice low. Rough. Gravely. It scraped across her skin like a thousand fingers, and she gasped at the pleasure of it. She’d never thought a desire given voice could have such a visceral effect.

Then his words registered. “What?” The question was breathless as she propped herself on her elbows, watching him as he nuzzled her belly. He settled between her legs, spreading them with his massive shoulders, and her eyes went wide. 

No one had ever done this for her. The one time she’d thought to try it, a templar had barged in on her and her lover before he – her lover – had even gotten her robes around her waist. It wasn’t an act easily disguised as something else.

She took a shuddering breath as his gaze settled on her, spread and open to him. Nerves twisted in her belly, and she wondered what he saw when he looked at her.

“Beautiful,” he said, and he glanced up at her. “You’re beautiful.”

Ah, well, that answered that. But she still felt flushed, a bit embarrassed that he was staring at the most intimate parts of her with ravenous eyes. At least until he kissed her.

Evie flopped back on the bed, her fingers burying in his hair as if out of instinct. She wanted to beg him to stop and never stop. The wet heat of his tongue was a spire of flame and pleasure that shot straight through her, a burning need and a slick ache. He made a rumbling sound of approval, and it reverberated through her like she was crystal, a perfect resonance.

Beneath his clever tongue, licking tender flesh and tracing alien designs all over her, she shivered and gasped. A moan escaped her. Then another. Her nails scraped across his scalp as her eyes fluttered shut and her hips lifted, driving his tongue into her. A shocked whimper spilled past her lips, a breathless sigh of his name. She caught herself, going stiff beneath him.

“Say it again, my lady. My name,” he said, and he curled his tongue around her clit in a way that made her cry out with abandon, unable to keep the pleasure bottled inside. He chuckled. “That’s not my name. But it’s a start.”

And then, as if he hadn’t been trying before, he set his mouth to her with all the passion and vigor of a man dedicated to a cause. He consumed her with lips and teeth and tongue, giving her wet kisses and decadent licks. He left no part of her untasted, and the strangled moans and stilted whimpers became cries of his name as she held him against her body.

She was sobbing his name when he slipped one finger into her, curled it, and sent her crashing into the most vibrant, all-consuming orgasm she’d ever had. The world around her shattered, turning to smoke and dust. It became an ephemeral and fleeting thing in the face of a pleasure so bright it was almost agony. Her cry of his name filled her room, echoing in the high rafters as her hips bucked against his face. The cry became a sob, a needy plea for more, because the pleasure was good, but it wasn’t _enough_.

“Blackwall, please. Maker, please, I can’t stand it,” she gasped, tugging at his hair.

He rose, propping himself on his hand, and he looked like a hedonistic god between her legs. “Tell me,” he said, his eyes glittering, “exactly what you want.”

“You. I want you to fuck me, I want you inside me.” She was practically sobbing the words. She ached for him to fill her, to find completion with him inside her, to feel the warm wash of his seed as he came.

“How?” 

Maker, he was asking these questions like he was commenting on the weather, and it wasn’t fair. She grasped desperately at words, grabbing hold of them only for them to crumble away from her. A senseless whimper was his only response, a lifting of her hips as she grabbed at his shoulders.

“Words, my lady.” Said the man who measured out his words as if each one were costly and precious. “How do you want me to take you?” A finger dragged through her folds, so slick, so wet. She’d never been so ready for a man before. 

“Don’t care,” she gasped. “However you want.”

With a pleased growl, Blackwall stretched over her, rubbing himself against her. The coarse hairs on his chest abraded her nipples in a delicious way. The hair on his thighs scratched at the backs of hers as she wrapped her legs around his hips. 

He found her entrance with his fingers and guided himself into her. She gasped, arching, adoring the stretching burn of him filling her. Her head twisted to one side, her eyes closing so she could focus on the feeling, on nothing but the feeling, because that would get her to the edge faster. That would get her what she needed.

“Look at me, my lady.” 

She protested with a quiet whimper, and he tutted at her as he pulled out – almost completely. Her legs tightened around his hips, trying to stop him from moving any further, but there was no moving Blackwall. The man was too solid and strong for a slight mage.

“Look at me.”

Slowly, she turned her face to him, taking in the sight of him. He cupped the back of her head once more, threading his fingers through her hair as he pushed slowly back inside her. Her body answered with a ripple of pleasure, clenching rhythmically around his cock. It felt like a brand inside her, as hot and unyielding as the rest of him. 

He was magnificent. An endless expanse of muscle that seemed made for her pleasure as he drove into her. Pulled back out. Pushed into her once more. Her nails scored his back as she met his eyes, knowing what he wanted in this. He wanted her to see him. To remember this as the moment he truly claimed her, because no one else had ever had her like this. No one had ever driven her to the point of desperation, where she was gasping and panting, writhing and twisting. And she was doing those things, needing him to move, to give up the slow tease, but he didn’t. He stroked her hair from her face and nipped at her lips, keeping that unbearably measured pace.

“Blackwall,” she whispered, and like before, with his fingers, he increased his pace ever so slightly. One corner of his lips kicked up, and she choked on a strangled moan. Another small increase, his cock dragging over her inner muscles in the most delightful of ways.

Some distant, insane part of her wondered if she should have tried a templar at the Circle. All her lovers had been wiry mages until now, until Blackwall, and the way he filled her, stretched her, was beyond compare. She felt tiny and fragile in his arms, but ultimately protected and cherished. Even though he looked at her like he wanted to devour her, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

He pressed a kiss to her neck, her shoulder, his beard brushing along her skin and damp with her arousal. She shivered, dropping her legs from his waist to dig her toes into the sheets. She arched to meet him, to take him deeper, and though she pulled an eager groan from him, he didn’t speed up. Didn’t take her like she wanted.

“Please,” she whispered, and he lifted his face, brushing his nose along hers as he met her eyes. The words burned in her throat, made her face flame, but she pushed them out. He was much more patient than she. “Maker, please, Blackwall. More. I… I need more.”

He released her wrists and grasped her hip, adjusting her to take her deeper, and his cock brushed over some place inside her no one had touched before. She couldn’t stop the cry that escaped her, and that cry broke something else inside her. Her nails scored his back as pleas for more tumbled from her lips, a litany of obscene, entreating prayers to him.

A moment later, she found herself astride him, on top of him, her knees on either side of his hips and his thighs against her back. “Ride me, my lady,” he said, both hands on her hips, now, applying gentle pressure to show her how to move.

She gasped, keened, rolling her hips against his and realizing this was better. This was best. This was more than anything of the quick, rough fucks in a darkened closer. This was lovemaking, and it was breathtaking. 

Bracing her hands on his chest, she moved against him, liquid and sinuous, her eyes on his, and for every little moan that escaped her, a groan came from him. The sounds he made were intoxicating, the most addicting drug, and they sang through her until her blood felt like it was on fire. She was on fire – literally. There were harmless tongues of flame curling around her fingers. If he noticed, he wasn’t bothered by them.

She strained against him, every motion dragging his cock against places inside her that made light burst against closed eyelids. She whimpered his name and then cried it out, her hips snapping in a staccato rhythm against his as her pleasure built. When the pleasure broke over her, a crashing wave of it, she cried out his name, her body still moving against his to milk every last drop of ecstasy from him.

Abruptly, she found herself under him again. He hiked one of her legs over his hip and drove into her, leaving her gasping and wide-eyed. “You—”

“One more for me,” he told her before kissing her hard, breathless.

He took her hard, too, a pounding and inescapable rhythm that drove her into the sheets. She could hardly match him; his endurance and strength was far beyond hers. The hard thrusts choked her, broke her, made her oblivious to everything but him. Her world was the sweet bliss of his cock inside her, taking her the way she liked but in a completely foreign manner. Every time he pressed into her, he murmured her name like a benediction, and it was almost more than she could take. He told her how hot she was, how wet, how her greedy cunt clenched and rippled around him, and how damned hard it was not to spill inside her. But he wouldn’t, he said, not until she’d come once more for him, and those words twisted inside her and made the aching pleasure a burning knot of ecstasy.

Finally, she shattered around him again, all but sobbing his name against his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders until his skin broke and so did he. She felt the flooding warmth of his seed inside her, heard him swear softly against her lips.

Then they were still, panting together, him still on top her, his weight almost crushing but mostly wonderful. “Savoring,” he said, a bit smugly, and he kissed her again. He pulled out of her, stretching out beside her, and laid his hand on her belly. 

“I don’t think I can move,” she murmured, flexing her fingers and toes and finding the muscles in her legs and arms were trembling. 

A wicked smile bloomed on his face. “Good.” His fingers stole lower, drifting between her curls, and she gasped. “I may need a break, but you certainly don’t, my lady. Shall we discover how many times you can come for me in an hour?”

She whimpered, not sure if she could take that kind of teasing, but when his fingers delved between her legs, she opened for him, arched into him, and let him savor her. For much longer than an hour.


End file.
